


The Doctor's Companion

by CodeName



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Complete, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Romance, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:51:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodeName/pseuds/CodeName
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: </p><p>You're the Doctor's Companion for a day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lights Out

**Author's Note:**

> You are the Doctor's companion for the day! Completed. General audiences.

The Doctor’s Companion

A breeze rolls through the tilted open window, sweeping the cold November air in and around the shoebox of a room. It picks up the smells of the candle burning in the corner and carries it along with the essence of a cold morning, a pumpkin tint in the air. The black of the morning blankets the surrounding houses, the only tremor of light emitted is from the burnt-down candle, in need of a fresh replacement. If offers a ridiculously small amount of light, but you don’t care.

You’ve been sat in the same place for hours, not noticing how the evening fading from a light dusk to thickening black that continued up until the early hours of the morning. People aren’t even awake for work yet, not even the milkmen or the postmen. The town is silent, and you are the only one awake.

It’s not your fault, of course, you never took notice of how people went about their daily lives below your dated, uninteresting room. Are they significant? Of course not. Truth be told, there’s nothing interesting here. That’s why your head is still buried in a book, absorbing every word that has been carefully etched on the pages. You’re deeply involved with this book; this book has kept you from going mad as the minutes tick on with nothing particularly amusing happening, everything you need is right in that book. And you’re determined to finish it – tonight. 

And let’s be honest, the only reason you’ve managed to get through this book so fast is because Tumblr is updating and your computer is useless without it. So, you picked up this book you’ve been meaning to read for months, and here you still are. It’s a fantastic book. 

Later that day, you’ll consider the butterfly effect. If Tumblr had been working, would you have missed it? Would the brightness of the screen have dulled your eyes and made you fall asleep early, with the tab still open peering anxiously at you? It is because of the book, you conclude, that you didn’t miss it. That you experienced the best day of your life. If it was real. Above everything else after that day, you’ll question if it was real. 

Your eyes droop ever so as the candle gives a last wheeze and extinguishes itself completely. You blink, raising your eyes from the page and wearily staring around the shadowy space, you’re weary, colourful eyes trying to distinguish shapes and objects. You never even noticed it getting dark; you never noticed the shadows falling over the pages you were reading. You can’t believe this has happened! You were only a mere page away from finding out a supposedly great conclusion to that book. Suddenly, you are angry at yourself, and the candle, and throw the duvet away from you with a flourish of rage and press your feet down onto the threadbare, starry carpet. You stamp over the light switch and consider going to bed – you’ve just realised, you’re very tired and that book only has one page left, the magnitude of the conclusion wont be appreciated until you’re awake. However, in a second, that feeling is gone and you snap your index finger over the light switch, desperate to know the ending. Ah, alas – it doesn’t switch on. A power cut?

Fuelled now, you stomp over to the window, shoving back a curtain that’s in your way and look outside. Nothing. No street lamps, no lights on in homes. Nothing at all. A power cut, definitely.

Sighing again, deeper this time, you gently place the book on the ground and slide into bed, pulling the covers up high under your chin. The book could wait, it was fine. 

You were perhaps asleep for two minutes before an erupting light blistered through your eyes. You sat bolt upright, eyes snapping open and head colliding with something hard. Your hair tangles in your face as you press one cold hand to your forehead. Ouch, you think, squeezing your eyes shut again. The bright light is still there, and now a voice accompanies it.

“Oh, I am sorry! It just so happens I’ve erm… well. I don’t know what happened really. The TARDIS being her usual self, what can I say?” 

Your eyes are seeing stars but it’s not because of the blow to the head. Your eyes are fully open, wide open, staring at this amazing contraption in your room. Sorry, is that a police box?

Your eyes move on to concentrate on something else. Or rather who else. Right sitting in front of you, is what is causing your massive headache right now. And he’s shining something green and whirr-y in your retinas.

“Oops. Sorry.” The unkempt man clicks a switch and the noise stops and the light dissolves into nothingness. Once again, the room is plunged into darkness. This man is still sitting on your bed, his head dangling above yours with his arm outstretched holding what appears to be, a kids toy. A million and one thoughts rush through your head – but one sticks out prominently. 

“Is that – that thing on my book?” your voice barely audible above a whisper hisses. With a quick glance to the side, the man’s voice colours, he sits upwards and attempts to stand.   
“You see, it’s not her fault, really, it’s your fault. We were heading to Anura because we heard - don’t call her a thing! She’s not a thing! - Something just terrible has happened and we need to help. The water is become contaminated and I need to save the amphibians from drowning. If they can. Maybe I’ve saving them from being poisoned? Probably. I’ll know when I get there, I suppose!”

He hopped up onto his feet onto the springy bed, feet planted firmly on either side of your knees. In embarrassment, you tip your head forward and your glossy hair falls onto your face. Awkwardly, you stare down at your choice of attire for tonight. Your usual. Typical. The one night it would have been perfect to wear those gorgeous pyjamas your best friend bought you and you don’t. Just great. Well done, you.

While you silently scold yourself this man begins an odd movement on your bed. One second – is he jumping? In all seriousness, is this stranger jumping on your bed right now?  
“Are you sure you aren’t an amphibian who needs saving? My sonic tells me no, but the lack of water in here is worrying.” He continues bouncing a bit, lifting his feet fully off the bed. His foot grazes your knee as he falls heavily down. Is he wearing shoes on your bed?!

Just as you open your mouth to say something, an angry, confused something, all the street lamps that were previously absent flare up, lighting your room up in such a way it never has before. At that second your head snaps up and you finally look into the face of the man who has randomly appeared in your bedroom, bouncing on your bed (IN HIS SHOES) and his mysterious blue box that seems to be near crushing your book to oblivion.

Your “something” words falter in your mouth and catch on your lips. Instead, your teeth crash down on your full pink, bottom lip and bite, hard. What you’re seeing can’t be true. No, it’s impossible. It’s not real.

Because standing right above you, is a gorgeous, scruffy, hypnotic man. Your now-ordinary eyes meet this man’s and you assess his face and him yours. Your eyes greedily rake over the curve of his long nose, the defiant swoop of his dominating chin and the long, frazzled hair that tips to one side, covering a large section of his face. You can’t tell, but by his tattered and singed appeared you think his eyebrows must have got on the wrong side of a fire place. 

Your eyes drift downwards, to his clothes. An open collared blue shirt reveals little of his skin, swamping his lean figure but sticking to his toned, flat stomach. It is hap-hazardly tucked into a sagging pair of black work trousers, which are rolled up and show bright blue socks declaring themselves above his shiny boots, laces trailing on the floor. Sweeping your eyes back up his body, you notice a tweed jacket weightlessly balancing on his shoulders. A final check and you see a bow tie dangling precariously about halfway down his shirt, daring to take a leap onto your bed. 

You know you’re sleep deprived. You know you’ve had a long day. This is not real. “You’re not real. I’m going back to sleep.” You try to close your eyes and roll onto your side, but this beautiful man’s feet are still in the way. OK, you think to yourself, OK. I can’t roll over, he’s real. Okay, okay. Deal with this calmly now. You’re fine.

Instead of being calm like you planned, you flail back up, wrenching your eyes open as you do so. Your head collides with something hard again, “ouch!” you exclaim, your hand racing to your head once more.

“Well, stop doing that then! You keep hitting me!” The man frowns slightly, sitting back on his haunches and pressing his own hand to his head. “Your head is blooming well hard.”

“Speak for yourself.” You murmur, sleepiness taking over your tone of voice and making you seem grumpier than usual. You look him directly in his orbiting eyes. “Who are you anyway?”

A big grin splits the man’s face. “I’m the Doctor.” He smiles, showing his teeth. “I’m a Time Lord.”


	2. Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor takes you away in his TARDIS for a night adventure, would you jump in with him or prefer to snuggle up in bed by yourself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Chapter two here. Please kudos this or comment. Either appreciated:3

You raise your shoulders and tilt you head toward the “Doctor” questioningly. The man still beams at you, his head leaning forward, daring you to ask something. 

“Doctor what?” You screw up your eyes, reading his facial expressions. He suddenly looks crestfallen, as if his favourite toy has just been taken away from him. His smile droops, crooked at one corner. 

“Just the Doctor.” He said darkly, stopping bouncing on his heels and standing upright. He leans towards the window, peering out into the air with squinted eyes. Following this, he turns sharply and thrusts open the door of the giant blue thing and falls inside in one “graceful” leap. You’re almost certain you’re dreaming or hallucinating, but then again your imagination is rampant so you don’t dismiss it immediately. Come on, how many fanfictions have you read and fantasised about this happening to you? Even so, you lean forward in precaution and tilt your head into the open door of the police box. 

All you can see is black: no lights, no Doctor. Evidently confused, you crawl out of your childish duvet and sneak forward, trying to get your head at a more convenient angle. Still nothing. You begin to feel slightly concerned. Yes, this may all in fact e a hallucination however there used to be a man in this, and a very charming man at that, so you think it really is best to see if everything is ok. You reach out a hand towards the open door, whilst internally screaming at yourself that this happens in every single horror movie you’ve ever seen and you always scream insults at the person that does this because they’re so damn stupid but this thought refuses to be pushed to the front of your mind and instead sits at the back, seething and your stubby, chipped fingers grasp into thin air. Your hand passes all the way through, hitting nothing but warm, musty air. You shiver at the temperature change, suddenly wanted to immediately be inside and be warm. The cold weather was getting to you. 

Not wanting to be rude, you perch on your bed and peer your head in, trying to make sense of the inside. You were almost sure you were going to hit your head off the back on this box, but alas, this didn’t happen. You couldn’t see anything. And once again, against your better, more sensible judgements, you took one giant step from your bed into this ambiguous blue box. Your breath hitches as you fall against the floor, your legs and arms sprawling at odd angles even though there was surprisingly, enough space for them all to dangle precariously. You take a moment and stand straight up, anxious not to hit your head on the ceiling. Of course, this doesn’t happen either. You squint your eyes, begging them to adjust to the darkness. “Hello?” You call out, your voice croaky and squeaky, your fear showing through. 

“Hello!” A voice replied, and it was clearly this Doctor’s. No other man would even have a voice like his. It was so childlike, so full of wonder and awe even for a fully grown adult. It was mystifying. As these thoughts echoed around your head you try to shake them as fast as they appear. Stop that you scold yourself, he could be twice your age. As if this stops the thoughts.  
There was a whirring sound and aquatic lights flash on all around you, sending you stumbling to the group. They were dazzlingly bright, way too bright for your eyes that had sat staring at words on a page for the best part of the night with only a single candle as aid. You were seeing stars; you blink quickly, trying to see everything around you.  
The man was standing in the centre of the large space, holding a control and excitedly running around, pressing dials and swirling wheels at what seemed to be random points in time. His hair hung over one eye and he pushed it back with a flourish as he sped around, trying to control the distressing noises the box was making.   
“What’s wrong with it?” Was the first question you ask. Not something smart, like “where the hell am I?” or “what the hell is this?” or “am I dreaming or crazy?” No, of course not, that’s not you. You asked the most bizarre question out there that would be probable in this situation. 

“It’s a she.” He says indignantly and you rush to apologise, blushing to the roots of your hair. The Doctor doesn’t seem to notice this; instead he keeps running around trying to get her under control. “She’ll be fine in a min- wow, ok-ute, don’t worry about it, we just sort of appeared in your room for no reason instead of the actual planet we were supposed to be on, and not really sure how that happened…” he trailed off, pulling a last lever which shook the foundations of the box. With a clatter, the door slammed shut and a bolt slid into place. Your head whips from the door to the man and back again, your highlighted eyes wide with astonishment. “What is going on?!”

The Doctor has a blank expression on his face, and it slowly breaks into a grin. “That’s never happened before.” He smiles, nodding his head. A new whirring sound had started up, intermitted interrupting the Doctor’s musings. “She must like you. Or hate you. She either likes you and wants you to stay or hates you and wants me to get rid of you.” He cocked his head, his deep bluey-browny green eyes staring into yours. He grins wider, snapping up and clapping his hands together. “Right then!” he spins around in place - his bowtie finally losing its grip and falling to the ground – he points his long finger at you, snapping them and moving closer. “Looks like you have no choice but to go on an adventure.”

Adventure? Your mind races at all the possibilities that could result from this, positive and negative ones. This decision was so flimsy for you, usually you have to make a list and out weight pros and cons together before you even considered leaving your bedroom for something that wasn’t absolutely necessary (like tea and food) and you certainly weren’t the adventure type. At school you weren’t sporty and preferred reading and playing pretend instead of participating in sporting activities. Sure, you had a few friends that you could play with and they indeed were always the reason you intended to go out (they were included on the “pros” list) but they weren’t here right now, and you don’t have a notepad so there is no way you could possibly figure this out. And anyway, it was too late. The Doctor mentioned that the whirring sound you are hearing is the sound of the TARDIS (what he had called it) moving through time and space. He didn’t know where you were going, so neither did you. With a final thought of your brain muttering screw it, does something fun once in a while. You put on your brightest smile and face the handsome Doctor. 

“This is going to be fun.”   
*  
“And… well, here we are! 14th Century Scotland. I thought this would be an interesting place to go! All the villages, the spats… ah, and the sheep. The Scottish sure love their sheep, don’t they?” The Doctor beams at you, where you on are the floor clutching the metal pole around the inside of the TARDIS machine-thingy. That was not a gentle ride. The metal is cool against your skin, reminding you that hey, are you sure you aren’t dreaming and that coldness is the breath of air blowing through your window? But you press your arm indignantly against the solid surface, indeed making sure that you aren’t hallucinating or having some fantastic dream that you would never want to wake up from. Slowly, you tilt your head up to grin awkwardly back towards the strange man wearing a bowtie, and struggle to your feet, using the pole as a guide to help yourself. 

The Doctor strides over to the door of the TARDIS, about to pull it open but you stop him by shouting, “HEY! Wait!” your voice reaches him at just the right second, his fingertips are grazing the handle as he spins on the spot to stare at you. “Yes?” he questions, his barely-there eyebrows rising. 

You gesture towards your bed clothes in horror. “I can’t go out there like this!”   
“Why not?” The Doctor lazily asks, raking his eyes over your body, your furious choice of attire. “It looks fine to me!”  
“I’m in my bedclothes!” Once again you protest, grabbing the bottom of your top with vigour and pulling it down to cover yourself up more. You don’t know what you were thinking, always sleeping like this. It was downright mad. No wonder people complained when they stayed at your house, your sleeping clothes were alarming. You blush a little as you think this, the colour rushing to your cheeks. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been caught blushing and don’t know what to do about it, sometimes you think it never happens to you, but often you think your face is bright red in any given occasion. But right now you’re just cursing the fact that you have a face at all, and wish you could go bury it in the cold side of a pillow or something equally as covering. The Doctor is still watching you quizzingly. He reaches out one hand from the handle of the door, pulling against it as he leans away, balancing all his weight on one foot as he stretches out. 

“You can stay here – I wouldn’t advise that at all by the way, you might break something and I am not letting that happen again – or, you can come with me and see the majestic Scotland and all its sheepy-ness.” He extended the hand towards you, long fingers just grazing your still figure. “I know what you want to do.” He gives a lopsided grin and winks. Immediately, your face flushes again and you shove your hand in his fast, hoping to God or any other deity up there that he has never noticed your increasingly colouring face. Sadly, you think to yourself, that he isn’t one to not notice little details such as that. 

You squeeze your fingers around his and he pulls you towards him, at the same time throwing open the TARDIS door. You fly past the Doctor, through the door first and roll onto the ground, arms and legs flailing first, the rest of your body catching up eventually. Stupid, klutz you. For a second you damn your awkward body but then think better of it, lest you blush once more. Lying on the ground, you notice the earth seems a lot less… well, muddy than you would have expected it to. C’mon, 14th century Scotland? You were expecting a shitload of mud. And other stuff. Maybe a few patches of grass now and then but nope, the surface you are lying on is most certainly not grass, or mud, or something else you’d rather not think of. 

The ground beneath you is grainy and soft. It moves as you move, moulding to your shape and caressing your body and every joint you have. It’s heaven right now. You are aware of warmth beating down against your back and you shudder happily. You can hear footsteps approaching you but you have no desire to get up and leave the cosy position you are in. The footfalls stop near your head and you sigh; rolling yourself onto your back in one motion. The sun beats down against your eyelids now, giving the most pleasant feeling. You could stay here all day. You sigh again, out of contentment this time.   
The sun is then shaded out by a large object blocking its beams.

“Hello? Are you still alive down there?” The Doctor’s curious face is inches above yours, like it was when he first appeared in your room. You’ve peeled your eyes open, staring at him in a slightly irritated way. Did he have to stand right there? He steps back, pulling your arm that he managed to lose a grip on when you were flung from out the TARDIS. You’ve came to the decision that hey, maybe that thing doesn’t really like you after all.

You are puled to your feet, your feet sinking into lush golden sand as your weight is pressed onto them. They sink a little into a warm cave; you wiggle your toes in pleasure. “Why did you have to pull me up?!” You ask him, you face contorting into an accusing expression. You then stop, falter. “Oh…” You look around yourself then, taking in the sights. “Oh, this definitely isn’t Scotland...”

“Past or present day. Scotland would never be this hot even if the sun itself declared it its favourite country and attempted to fry everybody to death. Practically an impossibility, for Scotland to be hot.” He laughed, shaking his head as he did so. After a short while he lifted his head, all laughter gone from his voice, his eyes. “I have no idea where we are.”   
You attempt to cheer him up then. His face looks so sad, his jaw sagging and eyes drooping. He looks like he’s let you down, and that was the last thing he ever wanted to do. Especially to you. You don’t know why you got that impression, or how for that matter, however that isn’t what’s pressing on your mind right now. “At least it doesn’t look hostile!” You reason, grabbing his hand in yours and squeezing like you did before. The Doctor turns and beams his trademark smile at you. “That’s tr-“ His words are cut off by a nearby screeching. “On second thoughts…” he remarked, flushing you against him. “On second thoughts, run.”   
Instead of into the TARDIS, which you though would have been a perfect place to go, he begins to run away from her, your hand still tightly wrapped in his. In his vice like grip, there is no way he is letting go. “Come on!” He yells: you stumble as he runs faster than you can, your breath hissing in your throat and your feet gliding over the movable surface. “Doctor!” You scream, trying to get him to slow down. As if that was possible.   
*  
After running for what seemed like 10 miles, the Doctor comes to a sudden halt. The ground around you has changed the scenery entirely different. 

The ground was smothered in flowers of all colours, all types, and all lengths. Little daisies stood protected by great lilies and tulips, bursting with bright white colour, something you thought were impossible. Roses, thousands of them, flooded the path that was made from gentle blue-green grass that gave off a minty scent when trod on. Orchids, pansies, petunias cropped up every now and again, shimmering in the twinkling sunlight that gave them so much flourish to grow. Tall, tall trees stood firm every few hundred feet, branches stretching out into the gorgeous sky as if they were a teenager waking up. The leaves were forest green and the size of your face. Not a single one littered the colourful museum below.

And if the sight was spectacular, the smell was orgasmic. Imagine your favourite smell, in the world. It might be your favourite perfume, a new book, freshly baked bread or just-cut-grass. It smelt like the best smells in the world combined, to make a smell so fresh, so exhilarating that you could cry right on that spot and demand a perfume of it, this instance. You all but fainted, standing on the last line of sand, your feet itching to touch and explore amongst the pastel shades of life. 

The Doctor laughs and turns towards you, his laughter infectious and causing yourself to fall into giggles. In one leap the Doctor is away from you, running through the fields of colour and glory, jumping over the tallest sunflowers and landing in a bed of poppies, only to roll around in them and declare “THEY TASTE LIKE LICORICE WANDS!” You laugh to yourself, flinging yourself into the joy that the flowers would bring. Brilliant smells erupted up to you as you do so; you race over to where the Doctor is now inspecting a great Oak tree, just in time to see him licking the bark. “What does that one taste of?” You ask, grinning from ear to ear. He leans in close to you, right up to your ear and whispers, “try it yourself.” 

Delicately, you stick out a pink tongue and taste the wood with the very tip of your tongue. You draw it back, aghast. “Is that... Is that chocolate?” You ask, stunned. You shove your face close to the tree, taking a meaningful lick now. It is. That is most definitely chocolate. You beam with glee, not caring if the Doctor thinks you’re stark raving mad or simply bonkers, you’ve found a tree that tastes like chocolate. Screw being with the Doctor, this is the best thing to happen to you… ever. “I’m ever leaving.” You say, hugging the tree. The Doctor just smiles down at you, a cheerful smirk on his face. “I know where we are now.”

“And where is that?” You mumble; you tongue too busy macking with a tree to care much where they are. Unless they were on planet earth and this heaven was available within walking distance of your house.

“Florana. I’ve been here only once before... But it was just genius.” 

“That’s great.” You and this tree are now in an intimate relationship, you’re thinking about proposing.

The Doctor grabs your elbow now and drags you away from it. “If this really is Florana, then there’s much better things to see than a tree that tastes like chocolate!”   
“I disagree thoroughly.” You grumble, but let yourself be dragged non-the-less.

“Don’t be a spoil sport. Come on! Run!” the Doctor’s infectious mood sets you up to sprinting, seeing if you can outrace him. Even on your best days, you’re probably not the best runner, but if it means beating the legendary Doctor, you are so sprinting your heart out right now.

“I’m winning!” you yell, your legs flailing and arms flying in all directions.

“You run like a giraffe!” He calls behind you, his long limbs giving him the advantage yours don’t have. 

“Hey! That’s not fair! You’re way taller than me!”

“How is that my fault, I was regenerated this way!” he’s overtaken you now by a long shot. He continues ahead of you, but when he gets so far in the distance that you can barely see him, he vanishes. 

“DOCTOR!” you speed up the best you can, once more finding yourself cursing your choice of clothing. Just when you reach the part where you’re sure you saw him last, you skid through the poppies and over a sharp drop, seeing a pool of water below you. 

Your scream carries through the moist air as you drop down, down, down…


	3. Goodbye, Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter of your story of your adventure with the Doctor.

The Doctor’s Companion – Part Three

“Ugh.” You puff as you land onto soft ground. You lie for a moment, waiting; getting your breath back. There is a strange sensation tingling all over your back, the feeling of gentle spikes prodding you and turning you over. You are being carried away. Almost in an instant, the ground underneath you is gone… And with a splash! You land, head first, into a deep pool.

The water is warm and silky; it smells like lavender and jasmine. You poke your head through the top, breaking free, dragging in lungful’s of air all at once, you were startled, you started to panic. But the soothing smells calm you down. The water has a nice pressure to it; you’re languidly bobbing along at a steady pace. You sigh to yourself and perform a trick you were taught as a young child – you push your hips to the surface all the while straightening your back and keeping still. You float now, blissfully along the flushed surface. It’s quite peaceful and for a moment, you forget where you are. You realise now there must have been some sort of hidden cliff above the water, something you didn’t see before you plummeted over the edge. Not that it matters now.

You bump away, occasionally knocking a foot or a shoulder off a lily pad caressing the water line. As if it was impossible, you’ve forgotten the Doctor. You’ve forgotten everything that’s every worried you. If you could just stay here forever, everything would be fine. You sigh again, letting the air speed past your lips, dragging your teeth across your bottom lip. You start to hum to yourself, but as you finally begin to lose yourself in the music, a shout can be heard not far from you.

“Hey! Hey! You! I’m over here!” It’s the Doctor’s voice, obviously. It sounds wet and snivelling. He clearly didn’t like his plunge into the liquid. You squint one eye open to your right – yep, that’s him, you can see him. You sigh a completely different kind of sigh now. It was so peaceful! Dammit! You allow your body to sink before you start to crawl towards him, dunking your head under the water and pushing off in a mermaid like fashion, whenever your head breaks the surface you’re laughing, and the Doctor is laughing as he watches you.

As you reach the shore, it didn’t take long; the Doctor holds out one pale, slender, extremely wet hand and pulls you to the surface with one heave. You go straight over the ledge, flying nose first through the air as he lets go of your hand to wipe it on his soaking shirt. “You’re wet!” he moans, attempting to get rid of the dampness by wiping it on his equally damp shirt. “I was just getting dry!”

“Liar.” You say, nose still pressed into flowers. You groan and roll yourself over onto your back, peering up at the pink-and-blue spectacled sky. The stars are just coming out now, and there’s a faint singing erupting through the air, siren like songs without the risk of impending death. You close your eyes and rest your hands behind your head, singing along to the beautiful music. You are vaguely aware of the Doctor perching himself next to you and you peek an eye open at him, peering through your eyelashes so he doesn’t catch you looking. 

“You know, I only have a human set of eyes but I can still tell when someone is staring at me,” he mumbles without shifting his position. Quickly, you snap your eyes shut and smile, trying not to giggle. You feel the exterior bend beneath you; like a bed when a dog jumps onto it. You buck upwards, the ground suddenly bouncy. “What is this?” You ask him, mystified. You run your palms over it, the grass and flowers still there, though the earth feels almost like a trampoline. 

“The planet changes when it gets to night. Just as on earth, when the sky goes black – the surfaces and objects on this planet shift into a different elasticity.”   
“That’s ridiculous.” You snort, gyrating your hips and feeling the ground bounce back up at you.

“Ridiculous but true,” the Doctor agrees, his oomph gone. He sounds sad, almost lonely, staring up at the pretty sky all by himself.

“Lie down next to me.” You reach out your hand and he takes it, trustingly, understands when you tug and he crumples down beside you. You and him are barely centimetres away from each other, his jacket skimming your bare arm; goose bumps rise to the surface and stand out shyly from the rest of your body. It isn’t from the cold, for the air is pleasantly warm, despite the lack of sunshine and the ever darkening sky. You hope it was only due to the feel of the rough fabric graze across your silk-like skin, but nevertheless you pray to yourself that the Doctor doesn’t notice. He’s trapped in his own mind as of now, though. You can tell when your peer your eyes up at him, trailing your retinas over the elongated, pale neck, up to the jaunt of his chin and the defiant stand out of his nose. His eyes are wide, staring into the sky, mesmerised and moving as though they are seeing a thousand years at once, as if in a dream state. The sculptured cheek bones stand proximate and as your rake your eyes all altogether across his face repeatedly, you swear you can see a faint pink blush colour his cheeks warmly. You smirk to yourself, just a small sneer for you to know that that blush might actually be because of you. You tell yourself this, although you feel ashamed while you think this. This glorious man brought you to another planet for adventure and excitement, and you think you’re good enough to make him blush? 

The guilt and shame astounds you and practically flings you to your feet. You twitch, wanting to stand and run away from this strange man, from the Doctor, someone who has probably met billions of more important, more beautiful, more successful and more intelligent women over you. A blush threatens to strike up in your own cheeks as you think this and you chaste yourself for developing such a large crush in only a matter of a few hours. What is wrong with you? Why do you ruin something good by letting a crush stand in your way always? It seems it’s some kind of running trait with you, it always happens. Developing feelings for a person who may never reciprocate feelings back. Hell. You feel terrible. You can feel anger riling in your gut and it makes you upset. You’re blinking rapidly now, oh wow, you thought this day was special but no, you had to go ruin it with childish, girlish feelings. You’re such a child! Why would a grown man who has seen moons of planets and creatures beyond imagination want a girl who has a crush on him?   
Though you don’t want to cry, especially because it’s your fault that it’s happening, tears brim in your eyes and you furiously try to blink them away. The Doctor will not see you acting like this, no way. Hurriedly you wipe underneath your eyes and return your hands back to your sides. The back of your palms brush the Doctor’s hairless skin on his own hand and you freeze momentarily. Then something extraordinary happens.

You rest your hand against the ever-changing ground, your hand still brushing his. Without thinking, the Doctor immediately laces his fingers through yours and squeezes tightly.  
Your heart in your throat, you clutch back and turn your head up at him once more, your hair irritatingly falling into your eyes at just the wrong point. Peering in between your hair, you can see the Doctor smiling down at you, his mouth stretched wide in a genuine, loving smile. It’s a smile you’ve always dreamed of seeing, a mix between a best friend and a lover, smiling at you with love and trust. All sorts of emotions were etched into that smile, but for once you couldn’t begin to decipher them. The smile touched the Doctor’s greyish-green eyes and your blush makes itself known more clearly, colouring your whole face a cheery shade of Christmas red. Keeping a firm grip on your hand, the Doctor opens his mouth. You melt at his words.

“In all my years of travelling, companion, each person I’ve met has been more successful, more beautiful and more intelligent than the last.” He holds your eye contact, brushing the hair away from your eyes with his free hand. He continues, “and I have never, ever, met anymore who hasn’t been important.” The honest behind his words pours out of his mouth like milk, with all the delicacy of a spider’s single web. The words are sweet and sincere, but never have words hit a place in your heart like that before. 

Before you can stop it, the tears rush down your face in parallel pools, streaming out of your eyes in one continuous loop. “Th-Th-” you wish to thank him for his radiant words; the words having trouble coming out. You stammer a few more times before he shakes his head and, still smiling at you, says “don’t thank me for making my world liveable, companion.”   
*  
For hours you two lay like that, watching as the sky above you changed colours more times than you could count on both your fingers and your toes. The sun rose and disappeared many times in those few hours, the wind becoming cold and bitter but threading glitter through your hair and woven into your clothes as you lay immobile. The Doctor and you spoke, sometimes without stopping, with your stomach aching from laughter or sometimes your heart aching from the stories he told. Sometimes, you didn’t speak at all, and only watched each other and the world move around you. You’re even sure at once point you dozed off, but everything was still the same when you awoke. You were aware you are pleasurably happy. 

But, the ground became once again simultaneously stony and feathery at the same time, and the morning has arrived. The cycle had repeated itself, and you were back to the hour of morning. Reluctantly, the Doctor eased himself up after a few too many hours of lying in one position and stretched his arms out wide, rotating his shoulders to each side, an audible groan escaping his lips when he relaxed. He shook his legs off and dragged a hand through his bedraggled hair before extending his hand to you, a similar action you had repeated to him last night. Slipping your hand in his, he pulls you to your feet and stumbles slightly, numb legs working themselves awake so you two can set off home.   
Hand in hand, you and he skip over the flowers than have awaked from their slumber and the air blooms with the rich scent of them, intermixing with the river you know is hiding somewhere in the green grass. 

You reach the TARDIS all too soon. The Doctor unlocks it and darts inside, you hear the whir of the internal systems kicking in already, but you can’t seem to say goodbye. You stand just outside the doors; breathing in sweet lungful’s of potent scent, wishing you could take it with you. Unwillingly, you wave goodbye to the world and take a step backwards into the TARDIS, reeling from the difference in oxygen levels you can sense already. You step straight back into the Doctor’s front, colliding with him as he was about to just pop out. “Won’t be a mo!” he said cheerily, he steps out the door and disappears from view as you walk further into the TARIS, sitting yourself down right in the centre.  
You are aware of a door slamming and locking in place but you can’t seem to register from which direction, and it doesn’t seem to stir you from your comatose place on the hard metal floor of the Doctor’s Sexy. You slowly progress from a sitting position to resting your head on the floor, your hands in your hair as your eyes become more deeply glued together. You are dimly aware of someone talking to you, even if you aren’t listening. You fall into a deep sleep that not even a man with two hearts could wake you up from.

Covers pressed over you, you wake up sweating, kicking the duvet out of your face and onto the floor of your bedroom. Wait a second, your bedroom?! Suddenly aware of the bouncy mattress beneath you, clouds surrounding your head that could only be your pillows, you sit stark upright in your own bedroom. There is no mysterious blue box sitting on your book, no dishevelled man perched on your bedspread. It is only you alone in your room, back to where you were when your candle burned out and the lights stopped working. 

Frustrated, you flail your legs and arms in a child-like manner and roll onto your side, glaring at the wall next to your bed. You couldn’t have dreamed it all, too much had happened and too many emotions had been felt for it to all be a dream. However, you are a vivid dreamer...

But no! As if you could dream all that. Even now, you could smell the flowers of the planet you were in, practically feel the water lapping at you as you bobbed blearily along… perhaps not. You cross your arms over in a huff, letting out a sigh of annoyance, but something bright catches your eye on your bedside table.

A single bright yellow flower blooms there, standing upright without water and giving off a compelling, strong smell. It smells like all your favourite things in the world, even old books.   
Your anger disappeared as you see the flower, obvious evidence that you were not dreaming and you did in fact travel in a great blue box that was larger on the inside, with a unkempt, handsome man who took you to a whole new world that was most certainly not Earth. You held his hand and he brushed your inconvenient hair out your eyes, and together you had run through fields upon fields of flowers and trees, laughing like small school girls over gossip.

You want to scold yourself for falling asleep in the last few moments of being with the Doctor, but you can’t. The happy memories simply override the feelings of annoyance and shrink even further every time the flower charmingly interrupts your vision. 

You’re almost glad you didn’t finish your book, because no ending could be quite as good as this night’s one. 

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment so I know how to improve, or tell me what you liked or didn't like :)


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